Description: While on patrol in the darkstalker-ridden streets of Southtown, Walter stumbles across Lyraelle in the process of terrorizing some poor local - only to find himself becoming the Demon Queen's new target! In a battle of two winged darkstalkers, one will rise above and one will be laid low, but both might be getting more than they bargained for.

[WALTER]Walter Bardsley has long ago tied himself to the purpose of attempting to find a way to ensure that the more violent amongst his own kind as well as humans are stopped from adding yet more to the pile of sins that both sides have created. It's why he remains with the Church, within the Sacred Order. Keeping at least vague contacts with Kiyomi despite the harm he knows they do. The man has ever a claw and tail in both worlds.

It doesn't help matters when all this rampaging from unknown Darkstalkers has hit Southtown like a hurricane. Walter's questionable control over his more draconic side has been roaring in the back of his head to join them. To let loose. To take, to control, to /dominate/ and horde everything he lies to himself about not wanting. Urges, primal and more often than not dark.

Thus it is that Walter has a coat around his priest's frock a bit more tight and voluminous than usual. He's already gotten looks from the local PD, and one or two NOL agents almost drew a sword on him before he launched into an irritable holy tirade that half the block could hear.

Luckily he got out of any more of /those/ when he heard a scream. Walter is in a section where an old row house had been demolished, the former residence of squatters after it had been condemned. Under a stack of debris from the half finished demolition is the shaking form of two children. One has the slight appearance of newt to him, while the other is a perfectly normal looking girl, the two friends clutching each other. A much, much larger scaled Darkstalker had been trying to yank newt-boy away before Walter intervened. A perfunctory, light beating with the blunt end of his spear, and the priest had sent would-be kidnapper packing and children off to their actual home.

So now the priest-dragon, with his coat cut up but wounds practically non-existant, has set to patrolling this run-down area of Southtown by wing. Subtlety is out the window.

And just who would he find, gliding up above the buildings like Superdrake?

[LYRAELLE]There are many things going bump in this particular night in Southtown. A horde of these agents of chaos have descended on the city, and in their wake, even more masterless Darkstalkers have come to revel in the anarchy... and at least one of these marauding bands has found the reckless violence they sought lavished magnanimously upon them.

The sound of laughter would probably be the first to reach Walter's ears; a mirthful, girlish laugh ringing through the alleyways below. A sound of a whip cracking, and a bellow of pain in reply. A beating of feet on asphalt, the dull clang of a bin overturned in someone's haste to flee. Fire and smoke rise above the rooftops in the direction that the noises are coming from.

"Aww, come baaack!"

The voice from the alleys sounds as though it belongs to the same person as the laughter, and shares the same youthful exuberance.

"I want to see if you taste like your friends!"

Walter will see a dark shape break out of an alley, crossing below his path at a frantic gait before disappearing down the next. Close inspection would suggest that the figure is a biker of some kind. Then, a few seconds later, a pale, pink-haired, purple-winged maiden flits abruptly up out of the alley, green eyes gleaming against her silhouette in the light of the moon. The young woman (who could easily be mistaken for a demoness) calls out to the retreating figure.

"Fine! Hide and seek it is, then. You've got the count of..."

At this moment, the green-eyed gaze falls on the flying dragon-priest, and she turns easily toward him, wings beating as she hovers. "...ooh. You look like fun."

And with no more than that, Walter will find himself set upon by the demoness, seeking straightforwardly to tackle him out of the sky and down to the nearest rooftop!

[WALTER]A biker and /wings/!? Well it's less the actual wings. Walter is hardly one to toss stones here, nevermind this isn't his first fellow wingee that he's seen today, much less since this all started.

No it's more the fact that the purple haired horned woman is wanting to taste the poor biker in ways that Walter is trying very hard to not extrapolate out to. He doesn't like any direction this could go with an obvious Darkstalker.

Which is why it's with a mixture of relief and yet alarm as suddenly this bubbly succubus is rocketing towards him like a missile. The resulting collision sets his cloak to ruin, his teeth and bones rattling around, and on a sudden trajectory towards a brick wall down below that is just unhealthy seeming.

WHAM! Walter hasn't managed to get a word in edgewise, but he fixes that even as he meets the onrushing demon-queen with the pole of his spear taking the brunt of it. For now. They still haven't made impact!

Instead of trying to /stop/ said painful landing, it seems Walter chooses to try to embrace his unholy cousin with those scaley golden flappers of his! How scandalous!

Embrace, squeeze /hard/, and try to turn this fall into a spin towards that wall! Walter is trying to dragon-hug and use the demon as a landing pad!

His mouth is working too! "I...I appreciate the sentiment, and would much prefer taking the beatings for an innocent man! But do you always choose to assault random bystanders, Miss!? If you haven't noticed our kind are going BERSERK! Humans are going to think us monsters /even more/ now if you keep up with this brutish behaviour!" Pause.

"And seriously, why does everyone attack the priest without so much as a 'hello Father may I get a blessing before I knock your block off'!?" Walter has many complaints here.

[LYRAELLE]For some reason, it doesn't seem that Lyraelle had any expectation that a fellow creature capable of self-propelled flight might be able to defend itself against her impulsive swooping. The demoness' green eyes widen as the dragon-priest's wings wrap around her. Momentarily, she seems more interested in examining the (other) darkstalker's features than course correction for the tangled tumble that the two are now taking.

"Mmm?" is all the initial response that Walter gets out of the demoness for all his protesting, one eyebrow rising slightly in confusion at the words.

Just before the pair crash into the wall, though, the demoness' wings burst out of their draconic counterparts, pushing open to dull the impact as Lyraelle smacks back-first into the wall, wings taking the brunt of the collision, while the Demon Queen's curves provide the priest, as pre-judged, with a much softer impact than the solid brick on the other side of her.

"You can't chastise me! I'm royalty! Don't you know what we do to priests?!" The tone of Lyraelle's indignation seems equal parts arrogance, amusement and anger. There seems something unbound in the pink-haired hell-maiden's psyche at the moment.

"And for your information," she continues, her tone now cajoling as her hands moving to Walter's arms and her bare legs swing suddenly up to try and encircle the priest's waist, "that guy was /so/ not innocent. I mean..."

A giggle sets the girl's body a-quiver.

"He's almost as bad as me!"

With that, she'll suddenly snap her head forward, using her horns to try and knock Walter senseless before carrying him spinning up toward the sky. If she succeeds, she'll take him up dozens of feet before flipping over, before spiralling back toward the ground below, aiming to hit the priest with one hell of a spinning piledriver - somewhat literally as, should he not be blessed enough to escape his fate, he'll also be subjected to a blazing green inferno on hitting the ground.

[WALTER]That is, indeed, mostly scale underneath that priestly frock! All obnoxious gold, sinewy muscle, and the same sort of chi that any Darkstalker would have pumping through his body.

And, for the record, he wears cologne. Not Battleaxe body spray. This priest has class!

The impact is softened, sure, and there's a slightly muffled set of words that aren't very Catholic at all. Cue the draco-man pulling bakc up to his feet with a red face, judging eyes, and all of that bluster he usually brings to a fight.

"...What? Are you some sort of...of Devil Princess or something? I suppose I it's not impossible. But I'm afraid you don't have diplomatic immunity, and Priests are supposed to advise royalty! Not get treated like flying punching bags! That line might be threatening if you were the French royalty! You hardly sound it my dear!"

Hurrrrgh ack! Before he can protest, shapely legs have him wrapped, there's interesting motions going on, and then a set of horns smash into his skull. Lyra can all but /hear/ his brains being scrambled and skull being knocked around. ...It's pretty tough though. The horns might ache for a bit.

This also lets her hear a very un-manly lizard-like yelp-hiss. It's just /weird/!

When he can properly /think/ again, he's spinning and he's falling and he's being piledriven with actual blazing green energy.

About all he can do is curl up and take it. The impact causes the very ground to shatter, and then turn alive in that burning green. Frock and undershirt alike are turned to ashes, and it seems the poor dragon-man might be dragon-toast!

At least until a roar that shakes half the block erupts, and light fills the area in pure gold. It has this /feeling/ of both the greed of a ravenous mythic beast and the holy aspirations of man to higher powers. It surges, seeking to put out the fire, and maybe, just maybe catch Lyra in it's fury.

Walter kips up, spins his spear, and sets into an offensive stance while that glow envelopes his now shirtless form. The cross still hangs on his neck, seemingly untouched by the demon queen's power.

"Well then! If you've been bad, perhaps this priest aught punish you for your sinful ways and lead you on the path to righteousness! Father Walter Bardsley, you delinquent Princess of the Pit, at your service! Now have at you! You...wait." Squint.

[LYRAELLE]Flipping away from the site of the impact after releasing Walter at the last moment of the piledriving action, Lyraelle lands on her feet. She folds her arms under her chest, then lifts one hand to tap at her cheek with a purple-gloved fingertip as she observes the smoking priestly wreckage.

"I'm Lyraelle Darkheart, rightful Queen of Demonkind!" she proclaims audaciously. ".../Why/ did I just piledrive a priest?" she wonders, apparently suddenly introspective toward her actions. "...Eh. Funsies, I guess," she concludes with a shrug, moments before the area is bathed in violent golden light. The expanding aura catches the Demon Queen off-guard, and while she turns her side against it, the effect seems to burn at her skin, darkening it slightly and causing a steam to rise off of her flesh. Something in the nature of the priest's chi seems contrary to the demoness' own, and she seems to curl in slightly on herself under the holy pressure. Her gloved hands rise to cover her face.

"You're... right. I have been bad..."

She seems to start to sniffle or sob into her palms, but it quickly becomes clear that the sound was actually a muffled giggle as her hands shift away from her mouth, covering only her eyes.

"Can you show me what happens to bad people?"

Her hands slip away from her eyes - revealing only a moment's warning in the burning green flame igniting them before the hellfire streams beam-like toward the dragon, scoring twin streaks along the asphalt on their course as she raises her eyes to direct their destructive gaze onto Walter.

[WALTER]A single brow rises. "A Queen. Is this some sort of self-promoting thing, or are you actually a Queen of Makai? Isn't...Isn't /Jedah/ the demonic royalty or something?" Luckily the dragon-priest isn't enough into Makai politics to know off the top of his head. He's actually trying to think! What did that embassy worker say...

"If you must ask that, then don't do it!" Proclaims Walter.

He actually looks like he feels bad for making her sob, before it turns out to be a giggle. Scowl! Twin-beams of that demonic energy crashes towards him. He tries to dodge, but it's of little use as he /just/ manages to twist mostly out of the way...except for the wings. That balefire crashes into his wing, sending him tumbling to the ground and flapping his now smoking wings that are being scorched. Pardon him while he stops, screams, and rolls. Eventually after a moment there's smoke but no fire. Breathing hard already, he grins /way/ too toothily.

"So you want me to show you eh? Well you do owe me for the frock! And I suppose you've been a bad Queen! Ahem...REPENT!" The dragon-man concentrates, bends his legs, and then...he's high into the air! Four or five stories up, as the concrete beneath him shatters. He turns and spins and then flaps his wings! Down falls the priest, flap-flap-flapping as hair and tail whips behind him. His spear is pointed down straight for the Darkheart heiress!

"Taste the fighting arts of the Church, demon!" He has to yell, and his voice might be a bit distorted as there's a /crack/ of wind around him from all this gravity-enhanced and wing-sped velocity.

He's at least sure to keep the sharp end away from anything important. Downside? This is going to be a blunt impact. But can his fellow flier manage to turn it aside or get out fo the way!?

[LYRAELLE]The glow in Lyraelle's eyes fades into trails of smoke rising from them as the dragon-man rolls smoldering on the ground. Whimsically, she seems to give more consideration to the priest's interrogative than the state of his well-being during his momentary incapacitation, a gloved hand coming up to tap her lips with one finger.

"Am I really royalty? Well, that depends on if we're being in character, here. If you're asking how to address me, 'Your Highness,' 'Your Majesty,' or 'Queen Darkheart' work. 'Mistress' and 'My Goddess,' also acceptable."

She smirks smugly.

"I'm guessing that last one might be a bit too heretical for your tastes."

Walter's sudden flight seems to take the Dark Queen by surprise, and her boots slide back a couple of feet along the ground with the forceful breeze from his take-off.

"Hey, come back here! We're not done playing yet~"

The dark demoness's hands move to her hips as she narrows her eyes up at the silhouette of the flying dragon against the moon. When it becomes clear that he's descending - at a worryingly fast speed - a small smile curls the edges of Lyraelle's lips. "Oh, good."

She's still in that pose when the holy roller's spear slams into her - luckily for her, not sharp-end-first. Though she takes the thrust with willful acceptance, it's hard enough to send her skidding back along the asphalt for dozens of feet. Her gloved hands wrap around the spear's shaft, not stopping the impact, but giving some control and allowing her to remain standing - and a spear's length from Walter.

Already folded over slightly in reaction to the pain of being shafted, Lyraelle bends down, grip solidifying on Walter's weapon until her face is next to the spear's haft - then slips her tongue out to run it along the pole suggestively as it brushes her chest for a few seconds.

Then, shifting her hands on the spear, she uses it to abruptly push her feet off the ground, thigh-high heels landing with grace on the haft before she springboards herself into a twisting flip, wings tucking behind her.

"Now, your turn..." she calls out mid-maneuver as she aligns herself in the air above, ending up several feet up and facing away from Walter, "...for punishment!~"

With that, the Demon Queen's wings open and flap forcefully upward, launching Lyraelle bottom-first toward the poor priest. If he doesn't manage to avoid her posterior-first pounce, he'll likely find himself pinned beneath her. More insidiously and more dangerously, he would then be subjected to her spade-tipped devil-tail wrapping around whatever part of him it can reach, before the appendage would start to sap the priest's power, claiming it for the Demon Queen's own.

[WALTER]Somewhere amidst that spineshattering landing and the subsequent skidding as Lyraelle confidently takes the dragon-priest's weapon into her grip, the man grins. "I /knew/ I've seen you before! You were on FightTube! Erm...right, I should at least keep the mood! Ahem."

I shall not bow to your evil Queenly reign!" Is she a Darkstalker Queen playing at pageantry? A human playing at Darkstalker Queen? Or something in between? Walter's honestly confused! But he'll figure that out later. Instead, there's a fight to finish. And that green flame sure did feel real!

It's about when she /licks the spear/ that Walter's jaw drops. He watches her land so adroitly, his body twitching in pure scandalized rage!

Both dragon and priest hate getting mocked. Then...WHAM!

He's on the ground, his head is spinning and his face feels smothered and yet soft. He feels weak, wiggling a bit, being a very poor throne for a moment beneath the seemingly victorious Queen, what with her tail wrapped about his waist. Dark spots fill his vision even amidst the darkness of Lyra's rear!

Despite his seeming downfall, the way his face burns far too pleasantly for his own liking, something in him roars. The draconic spirit flourishes, and with a last burst of effort? He reaches up for the most easily grabbed portion of Lyra that he can. Not even trying to throw her off, his own tail more or less tries to wrap about and strangle her. It's merely a distraction however.

His wings come to life and flap, as he tries to once more carry them both to the sky! It's a wild, uncontrollable thing, the man pretty much being blind right now. His entire body heats up, and suddenly everything is a miniature sun as he lets out every last bit of chi he has!

Every. Single. Drop. The roar he issues is animalistic and hungry, and shatters nearby windows.

And then he pulls in his wings, lets go of all that chi in one final flash, trying to plummet heedless of where they might be going should Lyraelle still be in his grasp! ...Not that he can tell much, exhausted and having even dazed himself with so much gold!

[LYRAELLE]The Dark Queen closes her eyes and inhales slowly, chest rising, as she draws in the dragon-priest's essence through the conduit of her tail. Her eyes pop back open as she detects clawed hands clutching at her hips, tail tightening around Walter's waist as she slides body-to-body with him when he forces himself up from beneath her.

"C'mon, I'm not dooone yeeeeet!" she cries out as the pair rocket up into the air, her body pinned against the roaring dragon-priest's. One of her hands wrestles with the tail trying to slip around her neck while the other tries to establish dominance in the grapple with the dragon-kin directly.

Then, the priest starts to shine like the sun.

If there's one thing that the Demon Queen hates, it's someone outshining her.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lyraelle shouts out as she feels the golden energy starting to burn her skin. Taking some control over the grapple, she starts to spin with Walter. Then, her own corona of green flame explodes forth from her body, clashing with Walter's golden halo - though even her own fire seems to have something of a golden tinge to it. The two competing auras leave both fighters aflame as they start to plummet to the earth - but moments before they can crash into the ground, Lyraelle's wings open to arrest her fall, and she catches Walter from hitting the ground harder.

"No splattering! It doesn't taste as good if you have to suck it off the asphalt..." the succubus claims as she lets the priest onto the ground - still not all that gently, mind - and sits astride his torso. Now that the fight has left the dragon, she allows herself a moment to wiggle and get comfy as her tail tightens around his waist once more. With the recent surge of chi, the Dark Queen takes the opportunity to glut herself on as much energy as she can, her skin even taking on a golden tinge as she drains her draconic victim, closing her eyes in dark delight.

After a minute, she stops sucking Walter's energy, letting out a contented sigh. The contentment is surprisingly fleeting, however - suddenly, her eyes flit open, flashing momentarily gold instead of their usual green. She looks down at the scorched priest she's straddling, an expression of horror creeping onto her face. "Oh, no! Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" She starts shaking Walter, trying to wake him, before trying to lift his head up and cradle it to her chest. Her distraught tone seems genuine, all the sadistic and playful malevolence of the past several minutes vanished without a trace. "Are you okay? I swear, I didn't mean to do that! It was just... oh, no! Now you know my secret..."

COMBATSYS: Lyraelle has ended the fight here.

[WALTER]With the fight over, and Walter thoroughly out-fought, he's at Lyra's mercy! There's so many delightful things to devour! Heroism, animalistic pride and dominance, conflict, and most of all...well, the spiritual and kindness may just taste like salted caramel ice cream. Or maybe that's just Walter's favorite treat.

As for the un-splatted dragon? Well...he's basically out cold, aches, with only the dimmest of consciousness as he's cradled against Lyra's chest. Is he smiling like a goof? The priest dreams of very warm clouds.

"H...heathen...Queen...of comfort! Get you next time...like and subscribe..." Like a night-light flicked off, say goodbye to that glow for now, oh baleful Queen Lyra!

Log created on 19:47:11 03/31/2020 by Lyraelle, and last modified on 11:56:46 04/04/2020.